


Six Times Sansa Tried to Fall In Love (and the try that finally worked)

by sasstasticmad



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Night Stands, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasstasticmad/pseuds/sasstasticmad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa believed in fairy tales and romantic comedies for the longest time. </p><p>A oneshot modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Times Sansa Tried to Fall In Love (and the try that finally worked)

Before she’d even had her first kiss, Sansa had kept a diary that detailed her plan for the magical night she would lose her virginity. There would be candles strewn about the room, of course. There’d even be the flower petals on the bed even if the idea seemed a little cliché to her.

 Her fiancé (quite possibly husband, it might be more romantic to wait until after she’s married) would take her by the hand and lead her to the bed where they would consummate their union and begin a life together, a life filled with puppies and babies and tastefully done holiday cards shot in a flattering black and white palette. She would be hopelessly devoted to her husband and he would be the same to her, her knight in shining armor in a time where men no longer cared about chivalry and the love of a good woman.

 It would be absolutely perfect.

 

1

 It is when she finally gets a boyfriend of her own that she realizes her daydreams of a picture-perfect future were entirely misguided. At first, it’s just that Joffrey kisses a little too hard. The press of his teeth digs into her lip and has drawn blood more than once, leaving her battered after each and every halfhearted make out session. Some of her friends just laugh when she complains about the bruises he leaves on her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, telling her that rougher is better anyway but how much better can it really be? Joffrey doesn’t make love to her, doesn’t make her feel like she’s the only girl in the world and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the way anyone should feel when they finally fall in love.

 She just feels sort of used, like the blowup doll Theon had given Jon for his eighteenth birthday, a caricature of a woman with mouth open and legs spread. She knows it’s supposed to bleed the first time. Joffrey had delighted in the first painful fuck, but it’s becoming clearer and clearer to her that it’s never going to end without her doing something drastic, that the blood will continue to fall.

 But hey, at least somebody likes her.

 

2

 She knows he doesn’t mean to do it but Sandor scares her sometimes. He’ll drink a bit too much or come to her dorm room with the stink of cheap cigarettes emanating from the worn leather of his jacket, his voice rough and his speech slurred. But even when he’s brash and bold and mean, he loves her almost too much.

 He kisses her gently like she really is the little bird he claims she is, He’s earnestly and sweetly drunk and when he touches the expanses of her freckled skin, it’s heartbreakingly soft like an accidental brush of his calloused hand on her breast will break her wings clean off, leaving them trapped together.

 It takes all of her convincing for him to finally give in, to make him love her the way she wants to, and afterwards she cries, the tears of gratitude pouring down her face and onto his tousled sheets as he holds her in the aftermath.

 He looks at her with love in his eyes and she doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve to be celebrated and praised by someone who loves so deeply and so strongly.

 

3

He had been Uncle Petyr once, the very same one that brought over lollipops and tipped her and her sister whenever they had a school fundraiser selling magazines. She can only assume she isn’t “Little Sansa” anymore if he is no longer Uncle Petyr but if she’s being perfectly honest, she can see that he likes the she’s younger than him. He likes that she’s still dumb enough to believe his hackneyed promises and great exaggerations about a life filled with regrets.

 Petyr liked taking her in her parent’s house, following her into the delicate pastels of her childhood bedroom and fucking her hard against the vanity as he whispered into her ear. _“Are you going to be a good girl, sweetheart?”_

 She had been a good girl for him. She sucked him off underneath his office desk, was at his beck and call, and had lied to poor aunt Lysa about the pregnancy test she had forgot to hide in the bathroom trash.

 It’s a relief to know it didn’t take.

 

4

It is years later and it becomes evident that Harry is the kind of boy her father would have wanted her to marry. She wants to love him, wants her dreams to be filled with visions of ruddy-cheeked children that look just like her side of the family, but it feels like something is missing.

It’s not his fault that she doesn’t want him the way he wants her. He tries so hard which seems like a copout but it really isn’t after years of accepting whatever scrap of affection someone throws at her. He’ll leave sloppily drawn hearts in the condensation of the shower mirror and bring home flowers every once in a while just to make her smile. He holds her hand when they watch movies and responds to text messages in a reasonable amount of time for someone as busy and adored as he seems to be.

It shouldn’t be a relief when she finds out he’s been just as sweet for two other girls, the perfect boyfriend they all wanted to marry once they were ready to settle down. But it is.

 

5

Sansa doesn’t drink often. It’s a waste of money and she doesn’t want to be one of those people that can’t be happy without something in their system, the way Joffrey’s mother always seemed to be with her never empty wine glass and wistful expression.  

On one of the few occasions she finally gives in to her roommates for a night out, Sansa escapes the crowded thump of the bar, breathing in the smoke-filed air of the alley, and meets _him_ for the first time. His violet eyes seem almost cartoonish but there’s nothing fake about the way he wraps his hand in the back of her hair or the way his pale skin looks in the moonlight as he fucks her against the dumpster. 

He had written his name and number on the back of her hand, a sheepish smile on his face that seems out of place for someone who had just made her come. The number had been washed off as soon as she got back to her place.

She was a good girl. Good girls don’t date boys they fuck in an alley.

 

6

 She had waited for Theon. He had been the first boy to appear in her childhood bridal fantasies, the first of a long line of crushes.  She had planned every detail, it seemed that their wedding was just a Pinterest board away from being fully planned. Their love would be something out of a sitcom, the beautiful girl and the neighbor who realized that he loved her all along. If the drunken night after her mother’s funeral had happened ten years ago, she would have been ecstatic, been so happy to be the one holding tight onto his arm as they bought a house in the same neighborhood they grew up in, her brothers and sisters just next door.

But Theon isn’t Theon anymore. He’s no longer the confident boy that had teased her but an actual adult, a man that doesn’t have any time to be cocky and carefree. She still cares about him, mourns the loss of the boy he once was many years ago, but it’s not the same. He seems just as surprised when she’s not the blushing virgin she was the first time he had kissed her. 

It’s not great but it’s nice to not be the only one disappointed for once.

 

7

 

Willas isn’t the handsomest man she’s been with. He’s not the richest man nor is he the most charming; but he’s all hers.

He’s all hers when he burrows himself against her, his breath warm against her neck as he moves slowly and surely inside of her. He’s all hers when he dotes on the children they see when they are out and about and he’s all hers when he broods in his office, just waiting for her to come in and cheer him up after a day’s argument with Olenna or Margaery.

Sansa keeps waiting to find fault in him, wants to find the deal breaker that allows her to abandon him without any guilt and retreat to her own little world of caution, but it becomes apparent that she won’t be leaving him anytime soon. She’s enamored with him, the crinkles by his eyes and the smattering of grey in his tousled curls, and if she weren’t so terrified by the idea of forever, she might just tell him just how good it feels to be with him. 

How good it feels to be a person for once, not just an idea. Theon and Petyr had liked her better when she was the young girl that still believed in fairy tales, recoiling when she had mentioned any hint of a life before them. Joffrey had wanted her to be mindless but sometimes that is easier to think about than the way Sandor’s heart shattered after she left. 

She feels like herself for the first time and when he takes her hand, she plans on never letting go.


End file.
